Freaky Year
by Kahlann
Summary: What happens when Dumbledore gets fed up with the constant animosity between Snape and Harry and finally decides to do something about it?
1. Prelude

**Disclaimer:** Everything you recognise is J.K.Rowling's property. I do not own Harry Potter, nor Severus Snape, nor Albus Dumbledore, which are the principal characters in this fic.

**Prelude**

Albus Dumbledore was severely staring at a much younger man sitting in front of him. His bright blue eyes for once weren't twinkling at all as he said:

"… so really, you ought to reconsider. I'm sure last term unfortunate's events will have changed his mind about the usefulness of it. Now he will be much more cooperative…"

"Do NOT insist Albus. I won't. I WON'T! Last year I let you talk me into it and it was a total disaster! The boy is just a worthless insufferable little…"

"Severus, my boy. I never asked you to like him, but you have to stop this nonsense. Just because you didn't like his father…"

"Didn't like? DIDN'T LIKE? I bloody damn hated him and you know it old fool! But it isn't about James! Perhaps it was, at first, but the brat makes himself quite hard to stand! Bloody hell Albus, he _couldn't help but look into my pensieve! _He invaded my privacy, looked into the most shameful memory I had.."

"And what did you do, while "teaching" him to occlude? Weren't you per chance _invading his privacy, looking into his most shameful memories? _Why are you so completely convinced that it's all right for you to do so and yet find it incredibly rude when he does?"

"It's not the same! I was trying to teach him! He had no purpose whatsoever!"

"So you were trying to teach him, did you? Tell me, Severus, you didn't think I would just put the two of you in a room together without supervising did you? I had means of spying. Portraits, house-elves, ghosts? Did you know they are all bonded to obey to the castle's Headmaster my dear boy?"

"Get to the point Albus."

"I will. From what I've heard, you didn't teach him at all. You just kept attacking him, over and over, without telling anything more useful than to _clear his mind_. Never once did you explain how he was to do it…"

"If you knew all that and found my teaching inadequate, then why did you make me continue? And why the hell would you want me to resume now?"

"At first I thought that spending enough time together, you would learn to get along… you must forget an old man's fool wishes. When it became clear that you wouldn't teach him anything, I admit I had some doubts. But I thought, _let him see really what Harry's childhood has been like, so then he could get past this awfully mistaken impression that he's a spoiled child. _But you never did. "

"But…"

"And as to why I now request you to resume lessons, it's because I'm fairly aware that it was both of your foolishness who got in the way. Just as you didn't want to teach him anything, Harry didn't want to learn. He didn't want to block his possible visions from Voldemort because he thought it was his only way of getting information. And that, I'm afraid, is entirely my fault. I should have known he wouldn't be content with just letting the Order do the job and play teenager… "

"And you think Black's death is enough to make him want to learn it?"

"That and the knowledge that Voldemort is capable of planting false visions in his head, yes. "

"Why don't you just teach him?"

"I can't. Don't ask why, this information is on a need-to-know basis, and you don't really need to know, do you? What matters is that _you_ have to teach him, and I mean really _teach_ him this time. "

"I already told you, I won't. "

"Please."

"No."

"Severus…"

"Don't Severus me old man. And stop with those puppy eyes. I-won't. IS THAT CLEAR?"

"I must insist. I need you to do this. For me?"

"Don't I already do enough for you? I teach those brats and listen to my Slytherin's little problems as their Head of House, just so that you could know just which of them supports the Dark Lord's ideas! I _spy on him_ for you! I "

"You don't. You do all these things to redeem yourself, and it has nothing to do with me, even if the information you bring is of great value to the Order. You see again? To the Order, not me. I ask you this for me, Severus Iran Richard Snape. It is my wish that the two young men I appreciate most learn to get along."

"You can wish all you want. But Potter and I will never ever understand each other. There's just no way. "

"Of course there is… All right then. Sorbet lemon?"

"What? That's it? no more pushing?"

"You wish me to?"

"Of course not. Well, if you excuse me I have things to do."

"Of course. Goodnight."

Albus Dumbledore was smiling widely to himself by the time Severus Snape reached his dungeons.

_They will understand each other, whether they like it or not_, he thought while adding a few phoenix tears, graciously provided by Fawkes, into a greenish potion.

Then, he added two little pictures, almost regretfully (it was _so_ difficult to get pictures of Severus these days, too bad the potion required it) and then went to sleep, humming to himself.

Tomorrow was going to be an eventful day…


	2. waking up in the greasy git's body

**Disclaimer:** Everything you recognise is J.K.Rowling's property. I do not own Harry Potter, nor Severus Snape, nor Albus Dumbledore, which are the principal characters in this fic.

**Chapter one: waking up in the greasy git's body**

Harry woke up at the odd sound of someone humming. _But who's making it_? It didn't matter. He would just stay on his bed all day. He had just dreamt of Sirius, not falling into the Veil but just laughing happily with Lupin… he didn't want the dream to go away if he got up.

Besides, the bed was very nice. _Wait a minute. Nice_? What the hell was he doing in a nice bed? It was nice, soft, with fresh pillows… definitely not his little excuse for a bed in Privet Drive. _Am I dead_? Yes, he was, surely. That had to be heaven: nice bed, soft blanket and pillows, somebody waking you up with a song instead of screaming at you to make their breakfast…

Okay, so if he was dead, he could see Sirius and his parents for real, so no point of just staying in bed.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, blinked, and stared. _This isn't heaven at all_. His own version of heaven didn't contain a Headmaster of Hogwards sitting in a comfortable armchair, seemingly waiting for him to wake up.

So he wasn't dead. It wasn't really a good new for him. It meant: "no Sirius today".

He definitely didn't like the smirk on the Headmaster's face. He looked around and got even more confused. He wasn't in the Hospital Wing, which had become the next plausible guess as to why he wasn't in Privet Drive without even remembering getting out of there. There was Albus Dumbledore so he figured he must be at Hogwarts, but where? This wasn't Gryffindor dormitory, nor the Headmaster's office…

Actually, it looked like the dungeons. Coldness (despite being late July), stone walls, no windows… _but what on earth could I be in the dungeons for_? _In_ _a very big and soft green bed no less?_ More and more confused, he looked again at his Headmaster, trying hard to hide his blush at the thought of their last disastrous encounter.

The old man seemed very amused by his confused look, he noticed. Then an odd thought occurred to him: _how can I see his face from here_? He didn't have his glasses on. The man should be a great blue blur. But he wasn't. He was as distinct as if he was right under his nose.

So he was dreaming, that's it. _Wait a minute. When you're dreaming, can you ask yourself if you are? _No idea. But he was soon going to find out, wasn't he? Anyway, asleep or not, he just had to ask Dumbledore.

Resigned, he began to sit up, nearly dropping of the bed in surprise when he sensed something brush his cheeks as he did. _Since when do I have long straight hair? _Pushing this fact next on his new made list of "things-that-didn't-quite-ring-true", he turned to face the Headmaster and asked lightly, as if he really couldn't care less:

"What happened? "

"Harry! You're awake! How are you feeling my boy?"

"Fine. A little confused maybe. What am I doing here? And where is 'here' anyway?"

"Oh, yes, yes, allow me explain. Do you remember back in your second year when you requested to stay at Hogwards for the summer? Well, you can now!"

"What do you mean? I thought you said I was safer within my aunt's house?"

"Yes! Harry Potter cannot be anywhere else, it would be too much danger."

"But I'm here!"

"Yes! But Harry Potter isn't!"

"Hum. Sir, the thing is, I _am_ Harry Potter."

"No, you aren't. "

"I'm not?"

"You're not."

"…"

"There's a bathroom right there. Have a look at yourself!"

Even more confused by the wide smile on his headmaster's face, and nearly blinded by the bright twinkle in his eyes, he got up… and nearly fell to the ground. Since when was he so tall? Avoiding to look at Dumbledore, he walked uneasily to the bathroom, and nearly collapsed when he saw 'his' face in the mirror.

It wasn't his face at all. It was his most despised professor's, looking even worse than usually (untidy hair and unshaved face to blame). And another difference: the usual cold stare was replaced by a confused look, which didn't suited the man's face.

The cold stare quickly took place when he thought of who was likely to blame for his disguise. Dumbledore. Somehow the interfering old fool had everything to do with this. His mere presence proved it.

He angrily returned to the bedroom, unconsciously mimicking his teacher's mannerism, and stopped right in front of the Headmaster, coldly muttering one word:

"Explain."

"…"

_"NOW!"_

"I see that I was right. You will be perfect."

"Excuse me?"

"Sit down. I'm going to explain everything. Do you want some tea? (he made two cups appear without waiting for Harry's answer) See, I knew you would be much too depressed if I let you spend all the holidays with your relatives. But you couldn't go anywhere as Harry Potter, so I decided to disguise you! And to avoid for anyone to guess that you're not still staying at Privet Drive, I let your body there. In fact, you just switched lives with one Severus Snape. Isn't that marvellous?"

"… … … you WHAT? What do you mean, I switched lives with Snape? You can't actually mean that I'll play him for the rest of the summer, while he plays me at my uncle's, right? You can't actually mean he' waking _up there right now?"_

"Actually, Severus is quite a light sleeper, so I really think he's been up for some time now…"

"That's not the point."

"Indeed. If you're worried about your relatives, I assure you there's no need to be. Professor Snape isn't really fond of Muggles, but he's quite capable of behaving."

Actually, Harry was more worried about Snape finding out what his home life really was like and using it to make fun of him in class, but he wasn't about to say so. Dumbledore continued:

"So, do you have any questions?"

"About what?"

"About how to act like Severus Snape of course. This potion is irreversible for a while. Sometimes it takes a month, or a year… "

"E_xcuse Me? "_

"Yes, marvellous isn't it?"

"Being Snape for an entire year?"

"Yes. "

"But why Snape? Why did it have to be him?"

"You're much safer this way. Do you realise? Even in the presence of Voldemort, he'll think of you as his follower, and you'll be safe!"

"Oh no, you can't mean…"

"Yes. You'll obviously have to replace Severus everywhere, as a spy on Voldemort's ranks as well as in Potions' classroom. "

"You want me to spy on Voldemort and teach potion?"

"Of course, you're Severus Snape now, aren't you? "

" …"

"Besides, I did it as much for you as for him. I want you two to learn to get along. Spending a month at your relative's house, he will realise that you're not spoiled at all, and you will realise how difficult his role is. It will all work out for the best. Plus, you said last year that you wanted to be informed. And Severus is! Sometimes even sooner than myself. "

"But what about my friends, and my studies…"

"I will arrange private lessons with a most trustful man. Do not concern yourself about it. Look at the fun of all this! Well, if you excuse me I have a few things to do now. Good bye!"

He left the room still smiling, and Harry tried to see how the situation could be_ fun_. Well, it _could_ be fun to imagine his hated professor making his relatives' meals, and getting yelled at by his uncle. And it certainly _would_ be fun to have the potion master as a student… a student whom everyone would expect him to despise and humiliate in every possible ways…

Then an idea occurred to him. Smirking, he went to the bathroom. Since he first saw his potion professor, he had always wondered what he would look like with clean hair…


	3. waking up as a Gryffindor Golden Boy

**Disclaimer:** Everything you recognise is J.K.Rowling's property. I do not own Harry Potter, nor Severus Snape, nor Albus Dumbledore, which are the principal characters in this fic.

**Chapter two: waking up as Gryffindor's Golden Boy**

Severus Snape was awoken at dawn by the light coming from the room's window. _Wait a minute: since when does my dungeon have any window? It's underground! Light couldn't pass even if it had! _

Immediately aware that something was wrong, he stayed still, millions of unlikely scenarios running through his mind, the most likely being that he had been discovered a spy by Voldemort and captured.

His immediate feelings certainly lead to reassure this path. The mattress he was in had seen better days and was very uncomfortable. The air was filled with black magic, as if precedent prisoners had been ruminating on their anger at being locked in.

Fortunately, nobody seemed to be there at the moment to begin torture sessions. _But why didn't they have already?_ If The Dark Lord had found out he was a spy, the torture would have begun immediately. But he didn't feel any Cruciatus' after-effects. In fact, he didn't feel too bad, apart from his sore back (due to the old mattress) and muscle aches and pains as if he had ran all day long yesterday.

_Yesterday… what happened yesterday? It could surely explain why I'm here, wherever 'here' is. _He thought and thought again about what might have happen the day before, but nothing out of the ordinary came to mind. He had had a meeting with Albus, the old Headmaster being his usual self and defending his Golden Boy again. Then he had made some potions supplies for Poppy. After a light meal (containing nothing he hadn't made sure of) he went to bed early. In _his_ bed, in _his_ rooms. Not here. Definitely not here.

And that didn't even explain his aching muscles. Well, he wouldn't get answers asleep anyway, so he decided to get up. He opened his eyes, blinked … and blinked again. Everything was blurry. He had heard of long-sightedness, of course, but he didn't think it happened to thirty-four year old men, and certainly not overnight.

Perhaps he was dreaming? _Let's hope so. _He was confused, and that was a feeling he really didn't like.

Deciding to get up anyway, he tried to ignore the pain in his muscles as he stood. Something wasn't right. He hadn't felt so small since he was a child. He began to walk towards the door (or where he _thought_ the door was, since he really couldn't see that much) and hissed in pain, quickly retiring his left foot from where it landed. He knelt to see what he had stepped on. There, laying on the floor, were glasses. Worse, they were apparently _his _glasses, because when he tried to put them on, he could suddenly see again.

Well, not so well as before, but better nonetheless.

Perhaps he was suffering from a memory charm, he thought. Perhaps he was now an old man needing glasses and he had just forgotten about them.

That didn't explain why he was apparently in a muggle house, in an ill-looking bedroom. Really, now that he could take a better look at it, it was pitiful.

As he looked around, though, he noticed a twinkling peace of paper on the desk, seemingly trying to get his attention. Relieved at finding something magical in this unwelcoming room, and curious as to whether it would answer some of his questions or imply more, he cautiously began to read. It said:

_"Severus!_

_How are you my boy! Do you remember yesterday when you told me there simply wasn't a way for you and Mr Potter to try to understand each other? Well, great news! I've found one._

_Really, you're the Potion Master here, so I needn't remind you of the effects of the Insight Potion, need I?_

_Of course not. Well, enjoy your holidays with Mr Potter's relatives! I know you've always thought they were kind and caring, so I do hope you were right, for your own sake._

_I'm sure you're aware that from now on you have to act exactly like Mr Potter. Dare I say it shouldn't be too difficult to fool some muggles when you've convinced Voldemort of your loyalty for seventeen years?_

_I'm sure I don't have to remind you of the little disagreement that comes from being an underage student… I'm afraid I can't allow you to use magic outside of school. No favouritism, if you excuse me for borrowing your motto. _

_Best wishes._

_Albus Dumbledore."_

That fool. That disgusting interfering old fool! A million thoughts passed in the man's mind, but the most present were variations of: D_amn you Dumbledore! _

Never mind. Yes, he would play the old man's game. He would act Pottish, which shouldn't be too difficult. He just had to act like if he owned the Whole Wild World. And this was finally his chance. This was the only way he could convince Albus that Potter was indeed a spoiled brat.

He smirked. In fact, he was going to have a very nice holiday…

His smirk didn't last long, as suddenly someone violently opened the door and began to yell:

"BOY! What are you still doing in your room! You will get your lazy ass down there and make our breakfasts, and it's better be good! I've got to go in half an hour!"

Severus, for the life of him, couldn't think of an answer to _that _by himself. He was way too stunned that anyone, let alone a muggle, would dare to yell at him, and even more when he remembered that he looked like Potter. And the man yelling at him and ordering him around was supposedly the boy's relative… interesting.

Fortunately, the Insight Potion took care of it. It was known to give strong hints as to how the other persona would respond to a situation, and at the moment Severus felt a very strong hint to answer as he did, as stunning as it felt.

"Yes Uncle Vernon" he replied, and was rewarded by a disgusted look from his "uncle", who left reminding him of the fact that he had better come down quickly to make his breakfast.

Which left Snape with one problem: he had absolutely no idea how to use a muggle kitchen, let alone to make something that _"had better be good"_.


	4. Adaptation

**Disclaimer:** Everything you recognise is J.K.Rowling's property. I do not own Harry Potter, nor Severus Snape, nor Albus Dumbledore, which are the principal characters in this fic.

**Chapter three: adaptation**

Harry had washed the git's hair twice, shaved, and finally dressed in black jeans, black shirt and black robe (all the while thinking that he really ought to purchase new things, now that he could go out to Hogsmade without too much risk).

Then, he had spent the morning trying to become accustomed to his new body. His sight was truly impressive now that he thought about it. It hadn't anything to do with his previous one, even while wearing glasses… he figured they didn't really matched anymore, since he hadn't changed them since he was nine.

Now, he was staring at the mirror. He had avoided it ever since finding out what he looked like, but now he figured it was necessary.

Staring back at him was a perfect stranger. Well, a stranger which certainly held a strong resemblance of Professor Snape, but not that much.

It was the hair, he decided. Instead of the greasy, disgusting wild locks that felt all over his professor's face, his was clean, soft and tidy, carefully tied back like Bill's.

The face changed too. Instead of the perpetual sneer harboured by Snape, his somewhat innocent expression was softening the angular face.

In fact, he looked so much different that he was beginning to worry. Wouldn't Voldemort notice that he wasn't his usual self?

As soon as he thought of the evil bastard, though, his soft expression vanished, as did his doubts. He just had to think about Voldemort to hold a sneer worthy of Snape himself. Everything would be alright…

Severus Snape was experiencing the most peculiar feeling as he left himself be guided by Potter's body's instincts. _He _had absolutely no clue of how to use a muggle kitchen, but apparently Potter was so accustomed to make those muggle breakfasts that it was recorded on the potion's side effects.

So he just had to watch as his hands were breaking eggs, rotting bacon and serving it all in good proportions to _his_ uncle and cousin, a little less for the aunt and much less for himself.

Then, as he made to eat his little part, the aunt pulled it away, telling him that he would eat _when he would have finished his chores_, while giving him a list. And with a sadistic glare, she shared his meal between her husband and child.

Apparently, he wasn't meant to eat this morning.

Glancing at the list she gave him, he reviewed his earlier statement. Apparently, he wasn't meant to eat until he was fifty… no way could he finish all that before lunch! And he didn't even know what half the chores meant. He sighed. How he hated Muggles!

Nonetheless, he moved to comply, and began by washing the plates, thanks to Potter's apparently inherent _ability_ to make those folks' every wishes.

He really didn't want to think of the implications. This could still all be a plot from Albus, and those muggles could be working on the Headmaster's order to make it seem as if the Potter brat was indeed badly treated.

Yes! That must be it! It was all Albus' plot. The Headmaster really had quite a Slytherin side per times, and this had to be one of them.

So, if the muggles were part of it, he didn't have to pretend anymore.

He dropped the plate he was about to clean up and said:

"No more. You'll do your chores yourselves, Muggles." He sneered.

His "aunt and uncle" appeared quite shocked, '_weren't expecting me to find out the truth so soon, were they?'_ and then the uncle became red with rage.

"HOW DARE YOU! We took you in! We took care of you, when we could just have sent you to an orphanage, and all you have to do to repay us is just a little work! Is that really too much to _ask? _We coped with you **_freakishness! _**Even let you go to that _awful **school **_where they're teaching you to **_hex us! _**

"We let you out of your cupboard and gave you our DUDLEY's second bedroom!

"How can you be so ungrateful!

"I swear, you're gonna work very hard if you want to eat anything at all this **_week, _**boy, and no more complaining, or you'll wish you never step foot in my respectful house!"

"_As if I didn't already" _he mumbled under his breath.

Really, this was getting out of hand. It had to end. Albus was going too far this time. He had to admit to himself, however, that the uncle was a damn good actor. But an actor nonetheless. There was no way in hell it was for real.

And there was no way in hell he would go through this for several days for Albus' amusement. No bloody way.

"Shut up, filthy muggle. I know what you're trying to do. Can't you see it doesn't work? I don't know nor care how much Albus gave you for this, but I assure you, _you'_re gonna regret the day we met if you don't stop this nonsense. I … "

But he never finished his sentence, as Vernon Dursley finally decided he didn't care the threats he had received at King's Cross anymore. He couldn't suppress the urge to hit the boy for what he was saying. He was actually insulting him, calling him a muggle (not that he knew or care what it was, but it sounded like something really bad from the boy's mouth).

So he hit. Hard. Repeatedly. Recognising that she had better be somewhere else when her husband lost it like that, Petunia silently left the room, while her husband and son corrected her nephew. He had earned it.

The first strike took Snape by surprise. So did the second, and the third. He looked up, bemused, as Potter's angry uncle beat him, and began to slowly take in that it wasn't at all Albus' joke. His eyes widened at the implication.

Albus' idea of a joke could never include… _this. _No way in hell. This was real. It hurt. It wasn't just for the act. It wasn't an act. Vernon Dursley was beating Harry Potter quite hard, and judging from the reaction of the aunt, it wasn't a single occurrence. She hadn't seem surprised at all. Oh God.

Suddenly everything came in mind, as Vernon and Dudley took their turns, each time trying to be more vicious than the other.

Everything. Occlumency lessons, where he had seen all those painful memories… first and last meals of the year, when Potter ate so much his housemates complained, laughing, that he didn't leave anything for them…

His odd reluctance to go to the infirmary, while every other schoolboys and girls were more than happy to be there missing a class…

And more than anything, he saw himself, continuously mocking the boy for having no parents, for being a spoiled brat.

A spoiled brat. _I couldn't have been further from the truth_, he thought, while fighting to stay conscious. Eventually he lost, and drifted to a dreamless sleep.


	5. Acceptance

**Disclaimer:** Everything you recognise is J.K.Rowling's property. I do not own Harry Potter, nor Severus Snape, nor Albus Dumbledore, which are the principal characters in this fic.

**Chapter four: acceptance**

After almost a whole week in his most despised teacher's body, Harry didn't flinch each time he saw it in the mirror anymore.

And he quickly found out that being in Snape's body had advantages… like no longer seeing Voldemort in his sleep, and waking up without a painful scar.

However, it didn't stop the regular nightmares about Cedric, Vernon and Sirius. He had them almost every night, and the closed atmosphere of the dungeons didn't help.

He needed to get out. He had, of course, taken advantage of the fact that he didn't need to hide as much in this disguise. He had gone to Hogsmeade and even Diagon Alley to buy some new clothes (he hadn't dare use his parent's money, in fear the goblin would refuse him access, and instead used Snape's).

He had taken a Butterbeer in The Three Broomsticks, but after a stern-looking total stranger had greeted him and began to talk about new potions, he hadn't dare to stay and taking the chance of saying some silly thing which would burn his 'cover'.

What he needed was to have fun. To fly. But wouldn't it be weird if someone saw Snape flying a broomstick? And his broomstick was in Snape's hands (or rather Vernon's) anyway.

His broomstick. His Firebolt. _Sirius'_ Firebolt. In _Snape's_ hands. It made him wanting to cry or strangle the man.

He needed to get out of the dungeons, or he would go mad.

And apparently, The Dark Lord thought so too.

Twice more this week, he had awoken with Albus Dumbledore sitting at the edge of his bed. They had taken breakfast together, and talked over it of what it meant to be Severus Snape. Including spying duties. But somehow talking about taking Snape's place as a spy in the snake pit had seemed so easy…

At first he didn't understand why his arm hurt. He was trying to learn something about potions, at least just enough to make it seem like he knew a lot, and he thought it was just a cramp for holding the book too long.

But, as painful as a cramp could be, it didn't _burn_ your skin, nor did the hurt it provided increased the way the Dark Mark's did.

Abruptly understanding what it meant, Harry stopped dead, unable to move, to think. This was it. The question was: could he do it? Could he willingly go to meet Voldemort, and act as if he was his _loyal follower?_ Kiss his robes? _KNEEL _before the man who had killed his parents, who was responsible for so many other deaths already? Could he?

Apparently yes. Or at least he would try, he told himself as Snape's subconscious made him take the Death Eaters attire and mask and lead the way to the apparition point. Was it something he was so used to do that it would pass to him with the body?

He quickly put away the smuggle amount of _sympathy_ he might have for the ugly man for having to deal with his _Dark Lord_ in a common occurrence. The man had _chosen_ to take the mark, after all.

Granted, he had been almost as young as himself at the time, and Harry wasn't proud of all his choices either…

But he quickly stopped this line of thought. He could not and _would not _risk to feel sympathy at this time, not when he had to put a perfect act of someone consumed by hatred. Besides, he hated the man, more than ever. For having taunted Sirius so much he couldn't stand to stay one minute more in the bloody house. For hating him since first year just because he looked like his dead father. And lastly, for having such a greasy hair he was forced to wash it twice a day!

He let Snape's instincts lead him towards the Forbidden Forest, biding his lips at the now unbearable pain, repeating all the way to himself that it would be fine, that he knew well enough how Death Eaters meetings went, having witnessed many, to take part of one… that Snape's instincts would probably take over if only he let them… that in this body he could actually occlude enough, or at least he hoped so…

Snape was gardening. Like a muggle. In Potter's body.

And life at Privet Drive was quickly driving him mad.

After a whole week, he had learned never to question anything the uncle said. Which was much more easier said than done, for someone who had despised muggles since he was born. To just nod and be silent when a _muggle _called _him _a _freak_.

The only times he had fun, and allowed himself to grin internally, was when Potter's family would go on for hours about how worthless the Potter senior had been. Of course, he appeared to be angry and trying without much success to control himself, as he knew the Potter boy would be.

His spying skills were proved very helpful in the situation, for he was used to act as if he was someone else. If he was capable of fooling The Dark Lord, making him think he was some kind of cold-hearted murderer, he could easily handle to fake Potter's poor character.

But it was much harder than he thought. For everything he learned about Potter's life hurt a bit more, for he had to prevent himself from being surprised when, for example, the whole cupboard issue came out for the first time, for he had to do whatever jobs they made him do, all the while loathing him and "his" parents, and avoiding Dudley…

Yes, this summer proved to be much harder than he first thought. And it was only the beginning.

He was gardening, under the warm sun, and his skin was burning. His head was beginning to feel dizzy (he hadn't got very much to eat these days), and suddenly a violent headache caught him, and he closed his eyes.

When he opened them, he wasn't in the garden anymore. Instead, he found himself in front of … _himself, _or at least his body, with supposedly the Potter boy inside.


	6. Barely managing

**Disclaimer:** The characters in this story belong to J.K.Rowling.

**Chapter five: barely managing**

"Severuss! I was beginning to wonder if you would join uss." Hissed Voldemort.

"Forgive me my Lord, _bowed Harry_. The old fool was telling me some stupid tale about sweets and birds, and I couldn't leave without it being suspicious."

"Really? It's a wonder you manage to stand his presence for so long a time. He's such an insufferable man."

"Right as ever, my Lord, Harry answered". If Voldy continued to insult Dumbledore he wasn't sure how long he would manage to refrain himself. That way his anger seemed directed at Dumbledore, but it was frustrating.

He wasn't used to just agree when someone he hated talked badly of someone he cared about. Granted, the old Headmaster had made many mistakes, but the past week they had managed to rebuild some of their ancient trust. And to hear him being mocked by the Snake-Head…

But after all, this wasn't much different from Vernon and Aunt Marge pestering him about his "useless father"…

Fortunately, Voldy seemed to have had enough of this line of thoughts.

"Take your place inside the circle."

He bowed and did as he was told, letting Snape's instincts take hold.

The headache he had was absolutely awful, and for a man who was used to be put under the Cruciatus Curse, that was saying quite something.

Severus quickly occluded his mind. He didn't need to see the meeting anymore. He had been rather worried that Potter would be too Gryffindor to lie convincingly, but he realised he shouldn't have. What he had seen was enough to know the boy was indeed capable.

If Voldemort felt he was there he wouldn't speak freely and Potter wouldn't bring any news to Dumbledore, which was why he had to occlude. Besides, he was in holidays. He didn't have to deal with Voldemort's meetings anymore, which was about the only bright side he could see on the situation.

Harry returned "home" an hour later, exhausted. He wasn't tired physically but mentally. Staying in the presence of the snake-like bastard was more energy-taxing than he would have thought. How did Snape manage to do it? For years?

Unexpectedly, he began to wonder if there was more to his Potion teacher than met the eye. After all, these little meetings would be enough to make anybody mad. Could he blame the professor if he decided taking his foul mood on his students was a small price to pay for maintaining an ounce of sanity?

Harry felt sick after only one session, so it didn't really surprise him that the man he was posing at had become twisted and cynical. Maybe he hadn't always been that way. The war was affecting people's life in more than one way…

Half a week later, Severus was beginning to wonder how the Potter brat managed to survive each summer. Or how he had manage to survive ten years in this house before going to Hogwarts, for that matter. Not because of the beatings (he hadn't done anything that _deserved_ one, even by the uncle's standards, for more than a week), nor because of the emotional abuse, but for the lack of food. He had never had an enormous appetite, but now he found himself constantly hungry and dizzy. Every day, he was given a tiny piece of bacon (when he was lucky) for breakfast, then a piece of bread and a half fruit for lunch (but more often than not the aunt said he hadn't done enough chores and didn't give him anything), and the same for dinner. On top of it all, he had to do physical chores all day long and that was more than enough to burn all the calories he had eaten.

He had to write another letter to the Order, and he couldn't tell them anything. Not because he wanted to save his pride. But because Potter had his…

The food arrangements weren't anything new in the Dursley's house. They never gave Potter anything more than they thought he deserved, so he hadn't got any more food the previous summers than Snape was getting this one. However, he had never complained, not once, to anyone, that the Dursleys didn't give him enough to eat. Severus was sure of that, because if he had, not even the Headmaster would have made him come here once more. The Boy-Who-Lived was starved by his relatives, and no one but Snape knew it.

That, more than the actual abuse, more than anything he had learned about Potter's life since he was here, disturbed him. The fact that Potter had never told anyone about what his home life was really like…

It wasn't what he expected from a Gryffondor and a Potter. He had always pictured Potter for a reckless defender of fairness and justice. After all, his five years at Hogwarts this far proved it. Saving the Philosopher's Stone in his first year (alone), rescuing Ginevra Weasley in the Chamber of Secrets and slaying a Basilic in his second year, proving to Dumbledore that Black was innocent in his third year, participating in the Tri-Wizard-Tournament in his fourth year and claming that Voldemort was back, getting his godfather killed by trying to save him in his fifth year…

But what, in this secret he defended so much, was fair? What was fair about accepting every snide remark from his hated potions professor, why didn't he correct him when Severus called him a spoiled brat?

And when the Order made him write a letter every three days, why didn't he complain then? Potter had spent two weeks in the Dursleys' house before Severus took his place. Two weeks. Five letters. And not one word of complaining.

Well, if Potter could manage to bear it, so could Severus. Not because of his pride, though. But if he were to complain to the Order, they might wonder why he complained now when he never did before. They might discover he wasn't quite himself, these days. He couldn't afford it.

It was like second year all over again for Harry. In ten minutes, he would be sixteen, but he knew he wouldn't receive anything from his friends for his birthday. Albus (as he wanted to be called) had make himself clear. It would be Snape, in his body, who would receive his birthday's presents in Little Whinging. And he couldn't even owl to know what they were. It would be too suspicious if the owl was intercepted. Since when did Snape ask Harry what he had received for his birthday?

Well, he had had ten years without presents, he supposed he could bear another…

Severus was abruptly awoken by an insistent tapping on the window. Yawning, he looked at the hour and growled. Who had the gall to wake him up at midnight?

Sighing, he stood up and stared blankly at the six owls bearing various boxes waiting for him outside. Shaking disbelievingly his head, he opened and began to untie the packages.

When he finished, he found himself smiling. Three birthday cakes and two sweet boxes… That was how Harry managed to survive the summer holidays! Well, even if they were from a Weasley, a muggleborn and a half-giant, they were more than welcome. But he wouldn't touch the WWW's sweets unless absolutely starving to death.

Now came the less enjoyable part. He had to read and answer all Potter's friends' letters…

Mid-august, Dumbledore owled every teacher, Harry included, to come eating lunch in the Great Hall. Harry realised that was the very first owl he had received since impersonating Snape. Didn't the man have any friends at all? Or family? Well, at least he would have received much mail this holiday. _My mail, _Harry thought bitterly. He still hadn't completely forgiven Albus for placing him in this situation, but he had to admit it had done him good. At the Dursleys, he had mostly sulked and mourned for Sirius. Since he was at Hogwards, he had simply too much work to do to worry about anything else. Order meetings, Death Eaters meetings, and most of all, Potion making.

How did one who had never been gifted in Potion could learn to teach the subject within less than two months? It was simply impossible. After a month's study, he could certainly impersonate convincingly a good student, but not a Potion Master. And he wasn't sure it would be any different in two weeks. He would have to talk to Albus about it.

Of course, it would have to wait the end of lunch. Albus had been very clear on that, no one else, professors included, could be told who he was. For everyone except Albus, he was and should remain Snape until the potion's effects wore off. They were at war, and no one could be trusted.

So today's lunch was his first real act with his co-workers. Somehow, he was even more nervous than when he first met Voldemort in this guise. Unlike Voldemort, with whom he met less than twice a month for a few hours, the other professors would see him every day for months. His act would have to be constantly perfect. Snape's chambers alone were safe enough to act as he wished. Not even in the Headmaster's office could be relax and be himself, because of the many portraits it contained. Snape's chambers (which he was slowly beginning to think of as his) were spelled against any spying methods. They didn't contain any portraits, or even pictures. The floo recognised Snape's magical signature and would burn anybody else foolish enough to try to floo in the Potion's Master's personal quarters. For once, Snape's paranoia benefited one of his students…

Out of these chambers, he had to be Snape. It wouldn't be easy. Harry knew from Albus and eavesdropping that Snape was often rude and sarcastic when talking to a member of the staff. Harry couldn't imagine being anything but respectful when confronted to, for example, Minerva MacGonagall. Worse, he would have to call them all by their first name, without adding 'sir' or 'madam' every now and then…

Difficult, but not impossible. He just had to act… like a Slytherin. Time to see if the Sorting Hat had been right…

Carefully composing Snape's smirking expression, he pushed the doors of the Great Hall open.

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	7. Unexpected

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter's universe belongs to JK Rowling, I'm just playing around with the characters for free.

**Author note:** Thanks everyone for the reviews!

**Chapter six: unexpected **

Inside, most of the teachers were already seated. Albus had told Harry that Snape tended to arrive last and leave first, and he didn't intend to change the man's habits. Only three seats remained: Albus and the new DADA teacher had still to arrive.

Harry nodded briefly in greetings and sat down in the middle seat of the three, knowing that Snape was usually placed between Dumbledore and the DADA teacher. As soon as he was seated, though, a voice from behind him said:

"I'm sorry, Severus, but you'll have to sit elsewhere this year. This is the Potion's Professor seat."

Harry turned around, and saw Albus standing in the doorway, a woman at his side. He raised an eyebrow, as he knew Snape would, and waited for the Headmaster to explain, which he did quickly.

"Professors, I'd like to introduce our new Potions Professor, Miss Smooth. Perhaps some of you remembers her as a student. She graduated fourteen years ago from the Ravenclaw House. Since then, she's been busy trying to find a cure for lycanthropy in France, and raising her daughter, Lucie, who is about to begin her first year here at Hogwarts."

"Excuse me, Albus, but does this mean I'm fired?" asked Harry, standing.

The Headmaster laughed, his eyes twinkling madly. "Of course not, Severus! In fact, you just got promoted to the DADA teacher position. I trust it suits you?"

Harry was torn between relief and anger. He wouldn't have to teach potions! On the other hand, Albus could have told him before he spent all this time studying the subject! Eventually anger won out. All these hours of studying the hated subject, for nothing?

"You know it does, he replied hotly. Though I would have appreciated to be warned in advance. I spent a lot of time preparing for next year's class! And I don't have that much time left to prepare the lessons for September!"

"Easy, my boy. I couldn't really tell you before, as I wasn't sure Miss Smooth would agree to take the job. And I assure you the time you spent on your preparations isn't going to be lost. I fully expect you to help Miss Smooth with her program."

"It would be my pleasure", answered Harry with more than a little sarcasm. Fortunately neither Albus nor the new teacher seemed to notice.

"Lunch it is, then!" exclaimed the Headmaster happily, pulling back a chair for Miss Smooth, who thanked with a smile.

Harry moved to the DADA teacher seat, which was between the potion's professor's and Minerva's. From the corner of his eyes, he studied the new teacher. Her hair was shoulder length, straight and golden-red. Some locks fell over her brown eyes and she put them back with her pale and long fingers. He absent-mindedly noticed she didn't have a ring, nor did she seemed to wear any other jewels.

He wondered what this one was hiding. So far all the new teachers at Hogwarts (apart from Hagrid, but he wasn't new to the castle) had tried to harm him (in Remus' case, unwillingly). Well, not this year. This time he wasn't the Boy-Who-Lived, but a teacher, and if someone wanted to harm Harry Potter, it was Snape who would have to deal with it!

He wondered what his hated professor was doing with his body at the moment.

Severus was holding a letter in his hands, but he wasn't reading it. He already had, three times. Not that it had been that interesting, but after all what could you expect from one of these Weasleys? All dunderheads, even the adults.

There was one line, though, that faced him with a dilemma:

_"We finally managed to convince Dumbledore to let you come in Grimmauld Place! Hermione said I'd better ask though. You **do** want to come, right?"_

Did he? It was horrible in here, with the muggles making him work, and the starving, and the occasional beating, and the emotional impact… But at least here he was safe. Those muggles wouldn't even notice if he was the Dark Lord himself in disguise, they paid so little attention to their nephew…

But if he went to Grimmauld Place, he would have to act all the time, because unlike the Dursleys, the Weasley family really knew and cared about Harry. Plus, they were used to all kind of weird things happening to their friends, so they wouldn't just assume he had changed a lot over the summer. They would be suspicious, and look for clues of something wrong.

On the other hand, if he refused to go there, wouldn't the Weasleys find it highly suspicious? Ron's letter seemed to assume he'd love to come, and given the way the Dursleys treated him, he would have guessed the same. But did the Weasleys know how Harry Potter was treated at home? Severus doubted Harry would have told his friends about the beating part, but given the amount of food he had received for his birthday he guessed they were aware he didn't get enough to eat, at least.

Well, the best way to know if Harry would have wanted to go to Grimmauld Place was to let him answer, wasn't it? Or rather, let the potion answer. Severus closed his eyes, and imagined being back at Grimmauld Place. The dirty walls, the screaming portrait, Kreattur…

Suddenly he felt a blinding rage, a thirst for murder, a need to strangle the beast with his bare hands, and a second later it was gone, and Severus was left panting on the floor. But it wasn't the end, and Harry's body still had something to say in the matter. An incredibly strong feeling of loss, anguish, and pure pain overwhelmed him and he began to cry as he hadn't in years. Then came the guilt, the despair, each new feeling so strong he couldn't breathe. He had to fight it, or he felt like he would die…

In a second of lucidity, he occluded his mind. He had his answer. Harry Potter wouldn't want to go back to Grimmauld Place, even if it was the last safe place on earth. Even if it meant another two weeks at the Dursleys'.

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